Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/116

 VER the frozen snow, With a musical swish we go Never a planet that rolls in space Doth travel more smoothly his destined race, Or less of the earth doth know. Covered all carking care, With a robe of the frost-work fair We are the creatures of joy to-day, As free as the feathers that round us play, The flakes of the crystal air. Swimming the wind are we, Like the fish in the buoyant sea Never a gambol in deepest ocean Could equal our subtle delight of motion, Nor thrill with a purer glee.